Page 24 of Christmas With The Kings
“It means you put the softened butter and sugar in the mixer and beat it until it’s fluffy.”
He leaned over, his lips near my ear. His fingers danced over my nipples, pinching them. “I can think of something else—”
I gave him a swat on the hip with the wooden spoon. “That’s it. Hands where I can see them.”
He grabbed the spoon from my second attempt mid-swat and held it up between us. “You really want to start this war?”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I challenged, leaning in. “I’m the judge, remember?”
He narrowed his eyes, then kissed me hard and fast before releasing the spoon. “You’re lucky I want that playroom date,” he growled. “And I’m just saying it now. That fucking gold star pussy is mine tonight even if I’m an epic failure at this.”
“Very well, my King.” I grinned. “Now…let’s make a mess.”
And we did. Flour in our hair, sugar on the floor, butter smeared on countertops and probably my thighs. He took direction surprisingly well when he wasn’t distracted by said thighs.
Every now and then, he’d sneak a taste from the bowl, and I’d slap his hand away. At one point, he licked the spoon, locked eyes with me, and then licked it again to rile me up.
But underneath all the teasing, all the chaos, was something else. Something gentle and special. We were making new memories. I turned to wash the snowflake cutters, feeling my heart was going to burst. He slid behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
“Want to make a new tradition?” he asked.
I leaned my head back against him and then ground my ass against the hard plane of his body and moaned. “What kind?”
“One where we do this every year. Just you and me. We bake, we laugh, you wear a little apron and destroy my self-control. Maybe you’ll let me fuck you in the mess after.”
He sucked on my neck, and the moment he broke away, I turned and melted into his chest. “Do you really mean it?”
“I do.”
“Promise?”
His lips brushed the crown of my head. “You’re so silly, kitten. Yes, I swear it.”
“I love you,” I whispered as tears filled my eyes.
“Good, because I’m going to need you to remember that,” he hissed in my ear.
The change in him was immediate. It was time for me to relinquish the reins—not that I ever wanted them to begin with. What I truly wanted…no, needed…was this.
His hand finally slid between my thighs and delicately parted my lips. I sighed with relief. He spread me wide, fingers pressing me open. His thumb did a slow trail timed to the damned music still playing from my phone, up and down my slit.
He rolled my clit with his thumb before slipping it lower, where it sank into me. I moaned his name and rose on my toes.
“So fucking tight.”
Pleasure coursed through me, and my nipples tightened. I gripped his thighs like I was on the edge of a cliff.
Aleksandr
God, I could touch her for days and still not get enough. She made me obsessed and starving for more. Starving for a taste of her wet pussy, for the sounds she was going to make when my tongue flicked just right, for the feel of her skin against mine. I was done waiting. I scooped her into my arms, her soft gasp against my throat making me grin.
“You’re going to get me sticky,” she whispered, laughing breathlessly.
“That’s the plan,” I growled, my mouth brushing her temple.
She melted into me, her arms curling around my neck, and I didn’t stop walking until we reached the room I’d prepared earlier. The scent of warm oils and soft cedar greeted us. Low instrumental music played through hidden speakers. The lights were dimmed, and candles flickered.
Soft gray eyes blinked in surprise, taking it in again as if seeing it for the first time. I shut the door with my foot and carried her straight to the edge of the table, then set her down carefully. I wanted her to understand how cherished she was.
